


somewhere deep, somewhere quiet

by enemeriad



Category: Fringe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Lost Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2520998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enemeriad/pseuds/enemeriad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are no alternate Peters in the universe and sometimes he feels like he's supposed to belong everywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	somewhere deep, somewhere quiet

Somewhere deep, somewhere quiet, somewhere still Olivia can hear herself.

But right now, above surface and yet somewhere in a prison of her own creation, all she can hear are screams.

 

It's all so confusing. The sky is a achey tangerine and the sunset is too big, too bright. She shields her eyes and kneels. The grass is soft and the breeze is warm. The day will end, one more goodnight. She can sort this out in the morning.

 

Olivia? Olivia "Olivia?"

Peter. 

But that only confuses her more. 

 

There is an perpetual war in her head and she can't shake the feeling that she's fighting herself.

She doesn't know how she ends up at Nina's office but the cool, metal calms her fingertips and she pushes into the room hoping there will be some sort of comfort in the familiarity. 

Silence greets her and a secretary mentions something about 'a trip to DC' and once again Olivia has to sort things out herself. 

 

+

Baby, we're not, not that gone. Do you ever think about me? Do you ever call my name? 

+

 

Peter finishes his sketches and his hand aches. There is nothing here, no sense to the etches. Walter offers waffles but there is nothing to console him. 

He hasn't gotten closer to home in weeks. So instead, he clings to memories. The smell of his home, Olivia's shirt, waffles made a different way and the way the wind in October was slightly less bitter than it is here. 

But when he steps outside to clear his head, turns up his collar and heads out into the Boston twilight, he struggles to find any difference. Harvard looks the same, the street looks the same and the 454 bus that stops outside the steps of the Massachusetts National Library has the same chain-smoking bus driver that Peter once remembered asking if he'd seen Walter when his father had disappeared that one time. 

He struggles to shoulder the burden placed upon him. 'Save the universe' they said. Nobody mentioned the penance would be paid from his pocket. He would've traded it all for one more day, one more hour, one more look at Olivia. 

Olivia. 

The Olivia in this universe is the same but different. This Walter is dissimilar but somehow similar. Astrid looks like herself but acts a little different. Everyone was able to discern a suitable home but comparing themselves to their alternate. Peter has no true home. No true universe. 

He doesn't really belong anywhere. 

But with no other Peter's in the universes, sometimes it feels like he's supposed to belong everywhere. 

 

He picks up on the first ring. 

'Olivia.' 

'Peter. This morning.. there's these things I know, that I couldn't possibly know. I don't understand. Peter.. I- I don't understand.'

But he's running to the car, calling Walter and promising to bring back chocolate sauce on his way back. He has to get to Olivia. He has to get to his Olivia. This might be his chance to go home. 

 

I have to get home, to this wonderful, wonderful, wonderful life.

 

He doesn't know when, but in her discussions, as she speaks, the way she retells the stories, he flinches. There is no recount in her tales, it is as if she had been watching from afar and repeats the moments like an outsider. 

Peters face falls and he sighs. 

'What's wrong?'

'Olivia.. these memories, these feelings that you think you feel. They're not you. They're not supposed to be in your head. They're not right.'

'Peter? What do you mean? It's me, your Olivia.'

But he frowns and moves towards the door.

'No. This isn't how it's supposed to be.'

 

The drive to Walter's lab seems longer than it did and he ends up a suburb away before he realises he's made a wrong turn. 

The machine won't fix and neither it seems will he. Stuck constantly in the wrong universe. The irony of the situation causes him to smile with chagrin. 

"I want to go home. I want to come home. I want to see you again."

But his prayers fall on the ears of the dead, departed or dreams. 

Peter can't tell anymore.


End file.
